


A Song of Life

by fancyh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh
Summary: Canon divergence from episode 5x03: The Death Song of Uther Pendragon. What would have happened if Arthur overheard Merlin and Uther, if he found out about Merlin's magic then?





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur had seen his father do many things, had expected many things from him, but never this. Never had he actually thought that his own father would try to kill him, and for what? For marrying a serving girl, for dubbing common men as knights? His father had been ruthless, barbaric sometimes, but never this. Maybe the time dead had changed him. When he had died, he was still broken-hearted after Morgana's betrayal, too weak to leave his chambers most days. He showed no sign of that now, no evidence that he was the same shattered man. Death, Arthur decided, changed people, twisted them. Just look at Lancelot.

He heard his father's footsteps grow closer on the stone floor, ringing as if he were more flesh than ghost. Arthur couldn't move, head pounding and world spinning under his closed lids; struggling to stay semi-conscious.  _This is it,_ he thought.  _Everything I've faced, and it's my own father who kills me._ It was a horrible irony.

His father's footsteps were right beside him when a voice spoke, low and commanding, and Arthur spared a moment of incredulity to realize that it was  _Merlin,_ and another moment to feel bone-chilling fear. If Uther was prepared to kill Arthur, he certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill Merlin.

"Get. Away. From him, Uther," Merlin said, voice somehow soft and yet powerful at the same time. His father's footsteps stopped, and Arthur felt dread coil in his gut but could do nothing, immobile, waiting for the opportune moment to catch his father off guard. But what could he do against a ghost? He twitched his fingers, trying to feel for the horn, but it was too far away.

"You've caused enough harm," Merlin breathed, voice steady and still soft. "You don't belong here." Merlin was too brave for his own good, Arthur decided. He was going to get himself killed trying to stand up to Uther. "You must return to the other world," Merlin continued, persuasive, but Uther cut him off.

"This is my kingdom." The words were raspy, otherworldly, strained with deadly threat. "You think you can drive me from it-you are nothing but a serving boy!"

Oh, Merlin was in trouble. There was a slight pause, a silence that seemed weighty, and then Merlin spoke.

"I am much more than that." 

_What? What does that mean?_

All of a sudden there was a rumble, and then a crash, and Arthur almost chanced opening his eyes before thinking better of it, heart pounding as he listened.

"You have magic," Uther breathed, and Arthur's world came to a screeching halt.

_Magic? Merlin?_ The thought was inconceivable, and yet something inside Arthur whispered that it was true, whispered of all the odd occurrences, the suspicions, the mysteries surrounding Merlin-

"I was  _born_ with it!" Merlin said tightly, and his voice was laced with a pain and an anger that spoke volumes, that spoke of a frustration and fear and hatred years in the making.  _Born with magic?_ Impossible, Arthur thought. Magic was a choice. Sorcerers turned to magic for the power that it gave them, and it corrupted, as all power does. But Merlin? Merlin had never seemed to want power, or did he? Was he secretly biding his time, getting close to Arthur only to strike him down? It made no sense. He'd known Merlin for close to ten years. Surely, in all that time, Merlin would have acted against him. Surely he wouldn't have  _saved Arthur's life,_ more than once, if he was truly a traitor. 

Arthur's head pounded and swum. "I made you Arthur's servant," Uther was saying, voice disbelieving. "You are a sorcerer."

"Even while you were king, there was magic at the heart of Camelot." Merlin's voice was taunting, defiant, and Arthur felt white-hot betrayal surge through him.

He felt a moment of solidarity with his father, words laced with venom.  _Merlin is a sorcerer. Merlin is a traitor. Merlin lied to you,_ his mind whispered.

"I will not allow you and your kind to poison my kingdom!"

"You're wrong. You're wrong." Merlin's voice was as steady as ever as he cut Uther off. "You're wrong, about so much. Arthur is a better and more worthy king than you ever were." Something in Arthur's chest settled at that, betrayal giving way to tentative hope. 

There was a roar, and a whoosh, and then everything went quiet. Arthur could feel that his father's presence had left the room, could hear Merlin's quiet breaths echo off the stone floor before his footsteps approached and he crouched down next to Arthur, trembling fingers pressing to Arthur's pulse point. Arthur stayed perfectly still, willing his heart rate even, and Merlin let out a shaky breath and withdrew, running off after Uther. Arthur relaxed infinitesimally, the heat from Merlin's fingers still feeling like a brand against his neck. So Merlin cared if he was alive. That still didn't mean that he hadn't betrayed Arthur. Maybe he was trying to rule through him, bend him to his will and make Arthur a puppet on the throne. But Merlin, ruling? He'd hate it. Or at least that's what he'd led Arthur to believe.

A minute passed with no Merlin and Arthur sat up, pressing a hand to his head as dark spots crowded his vision. He shook them away, hauling himself to his feet and grabbing the horn as he went in search of Merlin or his father. He heard a bang and ran after the sound, following the ghostly form of his father as he swept into a room, footsteps fast like the drumbeat of Arthur's heart.

"It will give me great pleasure killing you," he said, and Arthur knew immediately who he was talking to. He ran through the open doorway, seeing Merlin pinned to the wall by two spears and Uther advancing, an expression of fear and anger on Merlin's face.

"Father!" Merlin's expression dropped and filled with relief as Uther turned; Arthur stopped in front of him and slowly raised the horn, warring with himself. This was his last chance to see his father before he was gone forever. There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet he didn't think Uther would hear them, not like this. He looked at Merlin, at the fear written on his face, and knew he had to do this. 

Uther's expression changed to one of horror. "No," he breathed. "Please. Whatever I have done I've done for-for Camelot." 

Arthur swallowed his feelings, forcing himself not to look at Merlin. "You've had your turn. Now it's mine." He stared at his father a moment longer, heart ripping in two, and then raised the horn to his lips.

"Merlin has-" Arthur blew, silencing Uther's last words, those damning words that changed everything.  _Merlin has magic._ Uther faded into wisps of smoke, the ringing of the horn dying away. Arthur's eyes found Merlin and he saw him slump in relief, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and realized it was  _fear._ Merlin was  _afraid_ of Arthur finding out. Merlin was struggling to hold back tears, breaths hitching, and Arthur didn't know whether to comfort him or scream at him.  _Merlin has magic. Merlin is a sorcerer._ Sorcerers were evil, magic was evil...wasn't it? He'd lost too much to magic to ever trust it. But what was it the old sorcerer had said?  _Your own life has been saved using magic more times than you can possibly know._ What had that meant? After the initial shock, he had never quite believed that the old sorcerer intended to kill his father. Like Merlin had said, Uther was dying. What purpose would that have served? 

_Maybe something went wrong,_ Merlin had said, his own face tight with pain that Arthur hadn't understood then. Merlin certainly hadn't loved Uther, so Arthur hadn't known then why he was upset. Arthur suddenly thought of familiar blue eyes in a lined face, a quick wit to match his own, Merlin's strange absence, and understanding clicked. Merlin was the old sorcerer. The other realization settled in.  _Merlin killed my father._ Or...had he?  _Maybe something went wrong._

Arthur remembered what he'd said to him, had said straight to Merlin's face.  _I've lost both my parents to magic. It's pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again._ And Merlin hadn't said anything, had only stood there with that pained expression on his face, like Arthur had just ripped his heart out. Maybe he had, in a way.  _Merlin has magic._ It made sense, now. Everything made sense. And yet everything was more confusing than before. Arthur wanted to shake Merlin, demand he spill all his secrets, but a bigger part just wanted to forget anything happened. He wanted to go back to thinking Merlin was nothing more than an idiotic, strangely brave and loyal servant who couldn't tell a lie to save his life. Except he had apparently been telling a lie to save his life. Magic was punishable by death. 

_Why didn't you tell me?_ Arthur wondered, gazing at Merlin.  _Have you been betraying me this whole time?_

No, he couldn't accept that. Arthur moved forwards, helping Merlin yank the spears out of the wall so he could stand. Merlin still looked shaken, though he had composed himself remarkably well. Just another lie.

"Come on," Arthur said, holding the horn in his hand, "let's put this thing where no one can ever use it again." 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a blur. For all Arthur felt as if his entire world had been turned upside down overnight, nothing had actually changed. Merlin acted no differently, seemed to have no clue of Arthur's revelation, and Arthur tried his hardest not to act any differently as well. If he sent Merlin away more often on the premise of helping Gaius, well, no one knew his motivations but him.

He still hadn't figured out what to do about Merlin. It nagged at him incessantly, the knowledge, following him through every waking hour.  _Merlin is a sorcerer. Merlin has magic._ But did that make him a traitor? He watched Merlin more carefully, trying to see the gleam of deception or evil,  _something_ to tell him why Merlin had been born with magic and yet chose to serve a magic-hating king. Or, not chose, he supposed, given Uther appointed Merlin his servant. Merlin had tried to pick a fight with him the first day they'd met, not hiding his obvious dislike. Surely that couldn't have been a ploy to get close to Arthur.

But why had he stayed? All these years, Merlin had been by his side, giving advice-often strangely wise-and following him everywhere, risking his own life. Merlin had saved his life, pushing him out of the way of the witch's blade, even after their disastrous first meeting. What was his motivation? Then Merlin had drank poison for him, and jumped in front of the Dorocha for him, and probably more Arthur didn't know about. That couldn't be faked. Merlin had, time and again, placed Arthur's life above his own. But why?

Merlin was helping Arthur into his jousting armor for training as Arthur mused, thinking about the events of the days previous. His father had shown a new side to himself, one that struck Arthur to the core. Uther had been prepared to kill Gwen, his knights, even Arthur, all for some twisted sense of righteousness. Was it such a leap to think that maybe, just maybe, Uther had been wrong about magic? That, like Arthur had said, his hatred was born of fear instead of justice?

"I've always looked up to my father," he said, as Merlin puttered around him readying his armor. "I admired and respected him more than anyone. I have to accept that I can't please him. Be true to myself."

Merlin raised the armor over him and Arthur raised his arms unthinkingly, letting Merlin slide the breastplate on. 

"Uther did what he thought he had to do to protect the kingdom," Merlin responded, voice even. 

_What do you really think, Merlin?_ Arthur wanted to ask. "It doesn't mean he was right," he pointed out, standing up so Merlin could fasten the hauberk.

Merlin was silent; unreadable, but not disagreeing with Arthur.

Merlin's deft fingers worked the buckles, a familiar weight on Arthur's shoulders. "I want to build a kingdom that's fair and just." He thought of his father's words to Merlin, the derision.  _You are nothing but a serving boy._  "One where everyone's respected, regardless of rank." If Merlin had magic, why was he still a servant? Surely it was an act. 

"Does that include me?" Merlin questioned.

Arthur tilted his head, feigning hesitation. "Of course." He made his voice light, teasing. He wondered what Merlin was really getting at. Did he want equal treatment, or to be raised above Arthur?

"So." Merlin moved to his right arm. "Does that mean you're not going to hit me anymore?"

Arthur felt his face crinkle up in bafflement, dark thoughts of Merlin momentarily suspended. "When do I ever hit you?"

"All the time."

Arthur almost rolled his eyes. Honestly, Merlin was such a  _girl._ At least that hadn't changed. "That's not hitting, Merlin," he said. "That's...merely friendly slaps. It's horseplay." As if he would ever actually hit Merlin, and mean it. Hurting Merlin was strictly off-limits.

"So, can I give you a friendly slap?" _As if Merlin would ever hurt him_. As soon as he thought it, he realized it was true. Merlin would never hurt him. Whatever he was doing, whatever made him hide his magic from Arthur and pretend to be a servant, Arthur knew in his soul that Merlin would never hurt him.

"You can certainly try." Arthur's voice was lighter than it had been in days, unburdened with this realization.

Arthur fiddled with the buckles on his waist as Merlin turned away. Suddenly, there was a whoosh and something connected with the back of Arthur's head, ruffling his hair. It felt exactly like his leather gloves. Suppressing laughter he turned, seeing Merlin look a mixture of guilty and proud.

"What the hell was that?"

"It was, um." Merlin swallowed, voice rough. "Horseplay." He breathed unsteadily.

Arthur took the leather gloves from Merlin's hand, fingering them. "No, Merlin," he murmured. "You're doing it all wrong. Why don't I show you." He pulled his hand into the glove, curling it into a fist as he met Merlin's eyes. Something hung between them in the air, tense, before Arthur dropped his hand and shoved Merlin back gently.

"You're too easy," he teased, trying not to think about what Merlin could actually do to him. He'd seen sorcerers throw people through the air like they weighed nothing. All these years, he'd thought himself the stronger one of the pair, but Merlin actually had all the power. The thought made him shiver, and he turned, fiddling with his gloves to hide his expression. All this time, he'd been pushing Merlin around carelessly, teasing him. What if Merlin had snapped, had retaliated? Merlin would never hurt Arthur, but the fact was that he  _could._ That all this time, he'd been  _letting_ Arthur bully him and push him around, when he could have stopped it with a snap of his fingers. Arthur remembered, the second time they'd met. 

_I could take you apart with one blow,_ Arthur had said, young and arrogant.

_I could take you apart with less than that,_ Merlin had replied. And that hadn't been a lie. Out of everything, all the lies, that had been true.

* * *

It was a time of peace, even though the threat of Morgana loomed on the horizon. Days passed with nothing out of the ordinary, not even a simple bandit-raid to break the monotony of council meetings and hearings and all the kingly duties Arthur bore with grudging acceptance. Thus, he had much time to think, and as always, his thoughts strayed to Merlin. He wondered why he was not more angry at the revelation that his ser-his  _friend_ had been lying to him for a decade, that his friend was a  _sorcerer._ He wondered why he wasn't putting Merlin at sword-point, demanding answers, throwing him in a cell or exiling him for life, any of the normal reactions he expected. Instead, he felt nothing but a sort of deep sadness, an ache that whispered  _why? Why didn't you trust me?_

The potential that Merlin was a traitor had been considered and quickly thrown out. Maybe Arthur was too easy to trust, too naive, as evidenced by Morgana and Agravaine, but he thought that Merlin could no more betray him than he could manage to walk ten paces without tripping over something. Maybe Arthur was a fool, but he didn't believe Merlin meant any harm. Besides, what Merlin said nagged at him.  _I was born with it._ If that was true, then Merlin had had no choice in the matter. He hadn't chosen magic, hadn't pursued it for any untoward reason. He simply happened to have it, and he hadn't told Arthur. That, that was what stung. That all these years, Merlin could have told him, and hadn't. Surely Merlin knew that Arthur wasn't his father, that he wouldn't have him executed on the mere mention of magic. There were plenty of times when Arthur had almost accepted magic, but ironically it was always Merlin who had changed his mind. Merlin who hadn't said a good word about magic, who had let Arthur go on hating it without doing the slightest thing to prove him wrong, who had pleaded to let his people go free and then killed his father, and never tried to convince Arthur otherwise. Why? Why would Merlin stand beside Arthur and lie, why would he do any of it?

Merlin was a puzzle, wrapped up in a riddle. Arthur had never fathomed him out, and with the revelation of magic he only felt further away. Had he really ever known Merlin at all? Was everything a lie?

"What's wrong?" Merlin's voice jerked him from his thoughts where he sat, elbows propped on the desk and hands clasped together as he ignored the mound of parchment in favor of contemplating Merlin.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and trying to look unaffected. "Thinking."

"You, thinking? Well, now I'm really getting worried." Merlin laughed but Arthur didn't respond, feeling cold inside, and the smile gradually slipped from Merlin's face. "Arthur?" He moved closer, expression worried. "Are you alright?"

Arthur weighed his words before speaking. "What do you think about magic?"

If he wasn't watching, if he didn't know what he did, he wouldn't have noticed how Merlin tensed imperceptibly, how he swallowed and pasted on an unassuming expression to cover the flash of fear. It was so obvious, now that he knew. How had he missed it all these years?

"Magic?" Merlin turned away slightly, pretending to busy himself with straightening up, though Arthur knew better. "Why?"

"Just answer the question." Arthur's voice carried a hint of steel, and Merlin froze again.

"Well," he started, seeming to search for words, body still angled away, "I don't think I'm the best person to ask."

Really? Not the best person to ask?  _How_ had Arthur not known? Merlin always spoke his mind, except on the subject of magic. He tried a different tact.

"Come on, Merlin. After all we've seen, all your years with Gaius, surely you have an opinion. I want to hear it."

Merlin took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. "I think...." Arthur waited with baited breath. "I think magic is like a sword. It can be used for evil, but it's not inherently evil." Merlin hesitated. "But, people who use it often do because they want power. On the other hand, unlike a sword, magic can be used to heal. Those who practice it for the purposes of doing good..." He squared his shoulders. "Well, I don't see anything evil in that."

It was a surprisingly honest answer, and a good one at that. Arthur had never thought about it that way. 

"Do you think..." Arthur looked at Merlin, at the rigid line of his back. "Do you think my father was wrong? About magic?"

He saw Merlin take a deep breath. "I think...he had his own reasons for his views," Merlin said carefully. Arthur wished he wouldn't tiptoe around the issue. He usually never had a problem getting Merlin to say what he thought about something. 

"But was he wrong?"Arthur prodded. "Surely, as you said, not all magic is evil."

Merlin remained silent.

"What about choice?" Arthur tried. "I've always been taught that magic is a choice. If so, it's easy to punish people for knowingly breaking the law. But what if-what if it isn't a choice?"

Merlin stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Arthur tried to find something that didn't involve Merlin. "Morgana," he finally said. "Why did she start using magic?"

Merlin shifted, something guilty flashing across his expression though his face was turned away. "I don't know." 

_Did Merlin teach her? Is that why he looks guilty?_

"She learned it from Morgause, right?"

Merlin hesitated. Arthur narrowed his eyes. 

"What is it?"

Merlin hesitated again, and then spun to face Arthur. "She learned from Morgause, but she already had it. Her dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Nightmares. Only they were real. She's a Seer, Gaius says. She can tell the future from her dreams."

Arthur mulled this over, remembering Morgana having bad dreams for years. "And she didn't...choose it? She was born like that?"

Merlin nodded, something guarded in his eyes. "Something like that."

"Are all sorcerers like that? Are they all...born that way?"

Merlin shook his head. "Magic takes years of study. But I guess-" His eyes shifted, as if realizing he'd said too much. "Um, Gaius says that some people are born with the potential, and they can harness it through spells. For some, though, if they're powerful enough it comes out on it's own, like Morgana, when they come of age." He scrutinized Arthur, seeming to make a decision. "Do you remember the fire in Morgana's room, the window being blown out?"

Arthur nodded. "Someone attacked her with magic. Uther called the Witchfinder."

Merlin shook his head. "It was Morgana. She did it accidentally, when she had a nightmare." He swallowed, eyes looking haunted. "She was scared. She didn't know what was happening to her." 

Arthur stared. "Why did you never tell me?"

Merlin's eyes snapped to his, sparking with something dark and angry. "That Morgana had magic? Uther would have had her executed."

Arthur swallowed down the hurt at Merlin's lack of trust. "Me, Merlin. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have told my father."

Merlin just stared at him, unreadable. "Wouldn't you?" he said softly. "And would you have believed me, accusing Morgana of sorcery? Then it'd be me on the pyre instead of Morgana." His gaze sharpened. "Gaius ended up there anyway."

He had a point. Gaius had almost burned, and Uther considered him a friend. Gods, how much terror Uther had sown. How many lies he had spawned with his hatred and ruthlessness. Arthur tried to imagine Morgana, alone and afraid, knowing she would be killed for something she could not control. No wonder she'd turned against Camelot. 

_But not Merlin._ All these years, though he must have been feeling similar, Merlin never turned against Arthur. He stayed, even though he could be killed at any moment just for the way he was born. Why?

Arthur felt a spark of anger. All these years, and no one had said anything. No one had bothered to explain to him that magic wasn't always a choice, or what might have driven Morgana to betray them. Did they think him an idiot? Did they think him like his father, incapable of listening to reason?

Arthur stared at Merlin, leveling him with a hard look. "You should have told me."

He saw guilt flash across Merlin's face again, so quick he would have missed it before. Merlin's expression tightened, something cold behind his eyes.

"Yes, my lord." 

Arthur sighed. "You are dismissed."

Merlin turned and strode away, the door shutting quietly behind him. Arthur put his head in his hands, more lost than before.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming there's like a month between the last episode and the next because the season takes place over a year, so that's why it hasn't come up yet. Thank you to all those who read, left kudos, and commented!

 Arthur stared out the window, absentmindedly fiddling with his ring as he waited for a familiar figure to appear. Merlin had been gone most of the day, with Gaius giving some half-baked excuse about gathering herbs and eventually suggesting the tavern. The tavern. Ha! As if Merlin had ever stepped foot inside it. Arthur knew because he'd asked Gwaine, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Tavern?" Gwaine had said. "Mate, I've never once seen Merlin in the tavern, and I'm there all the time." He had seemed to size Arthur up before adding, "You know, I don't think he has time for the tavern. You realize he's doing two jobs, yeah? Maybe give him a break once in a while."

Then he'd sauntered away, leaving Arthur bemused. Of course he knew Merlin had two jobs, it's just....he forgot. He forgot that aside from being Arthur's servant, Merlin was a trained physician, and that when Gaius retired, Merlin would probably take over his job. If Merlin was already overworked, he certainly wouldn't be able to do both jobs fully, which meant...

Arthur pushed the thought away. So, tavern must be code for 'super-secret-magic-business' that Arthur still couldn't figure out.  _What_ was Merlin doing? 

He wouldn't say he was worried except, well, he was. He had no idea what Merlin was doing, if he was in danger, if he  _was_ a danger, if he was betraying Camelot....

Arthur had images of Merlin meeting with Morgana, sharing magical secrets and plotting against Arthur. Hadn't Merlin looked guilty when he'd talked about Morgana? It would make sense, for the two of them to be conspiring. They both had magic, and there'd been something like friendship between them before Morgana had turned against them. 

But he'd already been over this, and Merlin wasn't a traitor. Or was he? Arthur's head hurt from thinking and he rubbed it in frustration, watching as the shadows in the courtyard lengthened and torches were lit, but Merlin still didn't appear.  _Where is he?_  

As with most things he didn't know, Arthur went to Gaius.  

"Merlin's still not back?" he asked casually.

Gaius looked over at him, a faint glimmer of worry in his eyes. "No."

"And you know where he is." It wasn't a question.

Gaius hesitated, obviously not wanting to be caught out in a lie, or perhaps implicate Merlin. Gaius must know, Arthur thought, as he scanned his gaze. He must know about Merlin's magic, and had kept it a secret from Arthur. Why? Gaius wasn't a traitor, he was sure about that. If Gaius trusted Merlin, then didn't that mean Arthur could trust him as well?

"He's looking for a rare herb," Gaius finally said. "Very shy plant, hard to find. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

_You're lying,_ Arthur thought. Gaius was lying straight to his face. 

"Where is he?" Arthur growled. "Where did he go?"

Gaius, admirably, didn't quail under his gaze but met it straight on. Damn, the old man was good at lying. "I'm not sure what you mean," he hedged.

Arthur felt a surge of anger. "Gaius, stop playing games. Where is Merlin?"

Gaius hesitated. "Have you tried the tavern?"

"Yes! And guess what, Merlin's never stepped foot in there." Arthur leveled his gaze at Gaius. "Tell me where he went, without lying, or so help me..."

Gaius seemed to deflate, sitting down hard on a stool. "He went to find the Druids," Gaius said quietly. 

Arthur was taken aback. "Druids? Why?"

Gaius shifted guiltily again. "I believe he, ah, went to help. There's a sickness going around and Merlin's a physician. They can't come here, so he went to them. You mustn't blame him, Arthur." HIs voice was pleading. "He meant no harm. He just wanted to help."

The part about the sickness was definitely a lie, but everything else rang with truth and so Arthur let it go.

"Of course I wouldn't blame him," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "I gave the Druids my word that they would no longer be hunted. I would have sent Merlin myself had I known."

Gaius looked up at this, faint surprise written on his features. After a pause, he said, "You're a better man than your father."

"I know." Arthur worried his lip. "Why didn't Merlin tell me?" He was talking about more than the Druids, though Gaius didn't know that.

"That was my fault." Gaius looked very old. "I told him not to tell you. I wasn't sure if you'd allow it, with the Druids being..."

_Magic._ So they'd all thought him a magic-hating king, insufferable to reason. Why had no one just  _talked_ to him? 

Because he was king, Arthur realized. Because no one had ever dreamed of questioning a king, or actually talking to him. He was so used to Merlin that he forgot that he wasn't normal, that the way Merlin talked back and questioned and gave advice was anything but ordinary. If Arthur wanted to know about magic, he would have to find out himself, instead of waiting for others to show him. 

"Thank you, Gaius," he said. "When Merlin comes back, send him to me."

Gaius looked worried but nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Arthur swept out of the room and back to his chambers, returning to the window to keep his vigil.  _Merlin, where are you?_ he thought. But darkness fell and moonlight bathed the stones in sickly light, and Merlin still didn't appear. Arthur undressed and put himself to bed, the room feeling cold and empty. The fireplace was dark, only ashes remaining at the bottom and spilling unswept onto the stones; clothes were scattered haphazardly, various equipment half put away, a dinner tray still sitting on the table. Arthur lay awake for hours, tossing and turning restlessly, before finally dropping off to sleep. His dreams were full of Merlin, of flashes of dark hair and blue eyes, of a quiet voice that whispered unintelligible words as a hand found his forehead, stroking softly. 

_Arthur,_ the voice murmured.  _Arthur._

* * *

Morning came, and still no sign of Merlin. Arthur found himself in Gaius's chambers again, pacing back and forth.

"Gaius, what could be taking him so long?"

"Perhaps the sickness was worse than they thought," Gaius said evenly, but there was worry in his eyes. "He may have to stay there for a few days to make sure they're all out of danger."

But Arthur wasn't buying it. Whatever the reason Merlin had gone to the Druids, it wasn't because of sickness. And judging by the badly concealed worry in Gaius's eyes, Merlin was supposed to be back long ago.

"What camp is he in?" Arthur questioned. "Where is it?"

"Just beyond the ridge of Ascetir." Arthur made to stride out of the room. "Arthur, surely you're not going after him?" Gaius said, voice laced with fear. 

Arthur turned in the doorway. "Don't worry Gaius, I'll find him." 

* * *

 In an hour he was riding out with his closest circle of knights, heading for the forest of Ascetir. They found the Druid camp soon enough, or what remained of it. Tents lay in disarray, tattered and slashed, smoke still drifting up lazily into the sky from the smoldering ruins. The knights walked through the camp, on high alert, the forest eerily silent and still around them as their boots crunched on leaves spattered with ash and blood.

A twig snapped and Arthur whirled around, seeing a cloaked figure step out of the trees. He raised his sword as the knights fell into position around him.

"Show yourself."

The figure reached up slowly and lowered their hood, revealing grey hair and sharp eyes, recognizable as the Druid elder Arthur had dealt with many times before. 

"Peace, Arthur Pendragon," he said. "I mean you no harm."

Arthur didn't lower his sword. "What happened here?"

The Druid's eyes tightened. "Morgana. She attacked last night. We were forced to flee. Many were injured."

"And Merlin?" Arthur tried to keep his voice from cracking. "Where is he?"

The glimmer of sorrow in the Druid's eyes gave away the answer before he even spoke. "He was taken. We could not stop her. But he is alive, and the way ahead clear. I know where he has been taken."

"Tell me."

The Druid regarded Arthur with a weighty gaze. "I see you have learned much. If you are to find the one you seek, know this: You are but one side of a coin. If you are to succeed, you will need to trust what you do not know, and know what you do not trust."

Arthur nodded, confused but not willing to discount the Druid's words. How many times had Merlin told him to listen to some superstition, and then it turned out to be true?

"To find him," the Druid continued, "you must follow the ridge until you come to a waterfall. Cross under, and you will find the ruins Morgana has occupied. She is not welcome there. The land does not accept her. The Gods are with you, Arthur Pendragon."

"Thank you." Arthur made to leave, but the Druid's voice stopped him.

"Pendragon."

Arthur turned, listening.

"When you find what you seek, do not be afraid."

Arthur stared, confused, but the Druid only pulled his cloak tighter, melting into the forest again as if he'd never been there at all. Arthur shook himself, turning to his men.

"Come on. We must make it before nightfall."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the readers and especially those who left comments! You make my heart happy

It was late afternoon by the time they found the ruins, hidden away in a small valley that Arthur had never seen before. For all that he'd explored these lands his whole life, it seemed there was still much that he didn't know. Perhaps the land had been hidden by magic, away from prying eyes, but now that Arthur's eyes were open he could see clearly. So many things he'd missed because of ignorance and hatred, imprinted on him by his father. He felt as if he was awaking from a long sleep, and everything was bright and new and overwhelming. It was only his worry about Merlin that kept him from slowing down to explore the newfound land, to trace every leaf and stream that sparkled with unnatural life, calling to him. Maybe this was magic. 

_Magic is all around you. Magic is the very fabric of the world,_ Merlin had said, or at least his older version. Arthur was starting to believe it. Maybe magic wasn't an unnatural force, something to be afraid of. Maybe it was as natural as the wind in his hair, or the water tumbling in the brook. Just another element, harnessed by man into power, with the capability to do both good and evil. Gods, how had he missed it this long?

"What's the plan?" Leon asked, breaking him from his thoughts. They were crouched in a dense thicket near the outskirts of the ruins, watching as Morgana's guards milled around outside.

Arthur thought. "Someone needs to cause a distraction, and then I'll sneak in and find Merlin."

"Not alone, surely? Morgana will have more guards inside."

Arthur looked around at the men, all listening attentively. "Gwaine, with me. Leon, Percival and Elyan, cover us and do something to distract the guards."

They nodded, splitting off to follow Arthur's whispered orders. Soon they heard a noise and saw the guards look up before trotting off to investigate. With a jerk of his head, Arthur and Gwaine snuck forwards, keeping low as they evaded the sight of the other guards and slipped in through a back entrance. They made their way through twisting passageways, Arthur's feet leading him instinctively even though he didn't know the layout of the castle. They came to a space overlooking a large hall, where a throne took prominence at the head and guards lined the sides, a figure on his knees in the middle. The bars on the small servant's balcony helped to hide their forms as they hunkered down, Arthur's gaze falling on the figure. 

It took Arthur a minute to recognize the figure, and when he did white-hot rage took over. It was Merlin, with hands bound behind him, shirt bare to reveal his bruised and blood-streaked back to Arthur and Gwaine. Arthur could barely see the side of his face from his vantage point, but Merlin's expression was stony and cold, like nothing he'd ever seen before.

Morgana stepped down from the throne, a wicked smirk visible on her lips. She looked just as ragged and mad as the last time Arthur had seen her, beautiful hair snarled and matted and black dress torn and faded; a far cry from the elegant girl who'd graced the halls of Camelot. She was speaking, voice dripping with venom.

"-so much trouble. Don't think I've forgotten everything you've done."

Merlin, the idiot, stared right back without flinching. "Would you mind reminding me? You know, it's been so many years, and so many things have happened, well, I'm afraid it all just blends together-"

The crack echoed through the hall as Morgana's hand connected with Merlin's cheek, cutting of his rambling. Arthur put a hand on Gwaine's arm as he surged forwards slightly, feeling a similar impulse. How dare she hurt Merlin. At least this answered the question of whether Merlin was in league with Morgana.

"I should have killed you when I got the chance," Morgana spit.

Merlin met her gaze. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, kill me."

Morgana only smiled, leaning down to grab Merlin's chin. "Oh, I will. But not yet. Not until you've told me everything you know about Emrys."

Arthur saw Merlin stiffen, and Morgana's smile grew.

"Ah, so I was right. You do know him. You thought I forgot the little stunt with the formorrah, the last time we met like this? How else could Emrys have known?" She leaned closer. "All this time, I thought it was Gaius feeding him information from the inside but it's not, it's you, isn't it?"

Merlin stared back coldly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Morgana let go of Merlin's chin with a shove. "I think you'll soon be a little more forthcoming. It's not a question of whether you die, it's how soon, and more importantly, how  _painfully."_

Merlin's expression was black. "You can do whatever you want to me, Morgana. I'll never tell you anything."

Morgana's smile turned into a snarl and she spat out unfamiliar words, eyes glowing golden. The next moment the air was rent by a scream as Merlin stiffened, shoulders hunched and back taught with pain. Arthur saw red. 

"Arthur! Arthur!" Gwaine hissed, holding him back. 

Arthur stopped fighting, watching as the spell faded and Merlin gasped quietly for breath, somehow still upright. There was something charged in the air, making the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck rise. Gwaine nudged him, pitching his voice to a whisper.

"We have to find a way to get down there."

"Are you mad?" Arthur hissed back. "Morgana would kill us in an instant."

"What do you suggest we do?"

Arthur scowled, weighing their options.  _Merlin has magic,_ his mind told him. Then why wasn't he using it to escape? Maybe he was no match for Morgana. After all, for all Arthur knew Merlin just possessed a small amount, just enough for a few parlor tricks and to save Arthur's life a couple of times. Broken tree branches, rockfalls, that sort of thing. Nothing to combat Morgana.

Arthur sighed. "As much as I hate it, we can't do anything right now. We have to wait until Morgana leaves."

Gwaine stared at him, incredulous. "Merlin could be dead by then!"

Arthur looked down at Merlin, at the defiant expression on his face as he glared at Morgana. "No," he whispered. "No he won't." Merlin wouldn't break, he knew that. "It's only a few hours to nightfall," he said, hating himself as he said it. "She'll leave soon. Then we make our move."

Gwaine nodded, obviously upset but knowing that it was the only way. They settled in to wait, Arthur sending out a silent apology to Merlin.  _Just hold on,_ he thought.  _I'm here. I'm going to get you out._

Merlin's scream rent the air again, sending pain lancing through Arthur's heart.

* * *

Arthur braced himself against the wall, glancing around at his knights. They nodded back, and Arthur held up three fingers.

_Three, two, one-_

They burst through the doors, swords clanging as they clashed against the guards. Merlin looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, jaw dropping in shock. Arthur had no time to talk, as three guards converged on him and he was forced to look away from Merlin, parrying their blows. When he knocked the last one down and looked over, Merlin was standing and had somehow managed to not only cut his bonds but get a sword from somewhere, which he was swinging with a practiced ease that made Arthur's jaw drop. Merlin twirled the sword effortlessly, arm muscles flexing and making Arthur swallow. He'd noticed that Merlin had bulked up over the years, no loner gangly and weak, but he'd never quite seen the full expanse of Merlin's chest and arms under all those shirts and neckerchiefs. What drew his eyes, though, was not just the muscles. It was the scars. 

A large circular burn mark dominated Merlin's chest, stretching more than a hands-width across and looking strangely unnatural. What kind of fire left a mark like that? Surrounding it were smaller scars that littered Merlin's torso, what looked like knife-wounds and even a couple scars from crossbow bolts. There was a distinctive scar on Merlin's left pectoral where Arthur remembered him getting hit with a mace, and a slash in the hollow of Merlin's throat that suggested someone had tried to slit his throat. Those were not scars idly gotten. Those were scars from fighting, serious fighting.  _What_ had Merlin been doing?

Worse still, his torso was a mess of mottled bruises, fresh from his imprisonment, and when he turned to strike down another guard Arthur could make out the bruises and marks on Merlin's back more clearly, layered over old scars that trailed down his back. Whip-marks. At some point, Merlin had been whipped. But when? 

Merlin parried a blow easily and slashed, killing the guard in one swift blow. Arthur was taken aback. He'd known Merlin had become proficient with a sword after years of training with Arthur, but to see him use his skill so ruthlessly, without thought....He'd always thought Merlin was sensitive, prone to crying over unicorns and shying away from violence. But here Merlin was, ripping his way through guards without blinking, a coldness in his eyes Arthur had never seen before. 

There was a rumbling sound, and the doorway that Morgana had just left through crumbled, ensuring no one could come through. Now that, Arthur thought, was no coincidence. He saw another guard trip while preparing to take Leon off guard, and Merlin's sword fly suspiciously into his hand after it'd been knocked away. Now that he was looking for it, it was so obvious he couldn't believe he had missed it before. Merlin really wasn't subtle.

More guards poured in and suddenly the hall shook, chunks of rock beginning to fall.  _Merlin,_ Arthur sighed internally as he dodged a particularly large chunk. 

As if summoned, Merlin was suddenly next to him, grabbing his arm and shoving him towards the door. "Come on, let's go!" His voice was slightly hoarse but carried an air of command, and Arthur followed. The men ran out just as the entire structure collapsed, burying everyone inside. They stopped to catch their breath, breathing heavily.

"Stroke of luck," Arthur murmured.

Merlin glanced over, a quick smile pulling at his lips. "Good to see you."

Arthur straightened up, eyes running over Merlin. "Likewise." He clapped a hand to Merlin's shoulder, squeezing slightly and feeling relief well up at feeling him warm and solid beneath his hand. Merlin was safe.

Gwaine came running over, tackling Merlin in a hug. Merlin winced but grinned, hugging Gwaine back in a familiar way that made something in Arthur's gut twist uncomfortably. 

"It's good to see you, mate," Gwaine said, running his eyes over Merlin as Arthur gripped his sword tighter than was strictly necessary. Gwaine's voice was light, but Arthur knew just how affected he'd been while watching Morgana torture Merlin. 

"Not dead yet," Merlin quipped.

The other knights gathered around to ruffle Merlin's hair and express their gratitude for him being alive, and Arthur suppressed a sigh of irritation.

"We need to move," he said. "Now."

The other knights looked around, as if just realizing they were still standing outside the ruins. Arthur suppressed another sigh and led the way, keeping an eye on Merlin as they trekked through the edge of the forest to where they'd left their horses. Merlin had a few cuts and bruises that would need to be tended to, but nothing too serious. Apparently magical torture didn't leave a mark. And though Merlin shivered slightly in the chilly nighttime air, he didn't even seem to notice his injuries, still clutching the sword he'd taken from one of the guards. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't look like someone who'd just been tortured. The cool calmness with which he carried himself unnerved Arthur, making him wonder how much he really did know Merlin. When had Merlin stopped being sensitive and fragile, too uncoordinated to even hold a sword and complaining at the slightest bit of discomfort? When had he become...this?

When they reached the horses Arthur sat Merlin down despite his protests, cleaning his wounds and glaring at the others to prevent them from saying anything. Merlin was silent as Arthur dabbed at the marks on his back, restraining himself from tracing the silver scars that wound their way down the pale skin. 

Arthur moved to Merlin's front, carefully prodding the cut on his cheek as the air between them thickened with tension. Arthur let his fingers drift to Merlin's chin, gripping slightly so he couldn't look away. Merlin's eyes finally flicked to his, wary and guarded. 

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, "where did you get these?"

Something flashed in Merlin's eyes, there and gone again, before Arthur saw him paste his mask on. Merlin smiled slightly, huffing a laugh that sounded like broken glass, false and unnerving.

"Arthur, come on. You know it's not the first time I've been captured. Besides, you drag me with you everywhere you go. I was bound to get injured. Honestly, you can't go a day without almost getting yourself killed. And then I have to save you, again, but of course you'd never admit that, and-"

"Merlin." Arthur cut him off, fingers tightening on his chin. Merlin stopped mid-ramble, eyes dimming as he seemed to sense Arthur's seriousness. He swallowed, undefinable emotion flickering across his face as he looked away from Arthur's gaze. Arthur wanted to tell him everything, to tell him that he knew, that Merlin didn't have to hide, but it wasn't the right time. Not here, with so many others close by. Not when Merlin seemed so determined to keep it from Arthur. Arthur couldn't be the one to make Merlin reveal his secrets. Merlin had to tell him, to  _trust_ him, or the years of lies meant nothing.

Arthur dropped Merlin's chin. "I'm sorry," he said, because it was the only thing he could say.  _I'm sorry that you don't trust me. I'm sorry for everything I've done, everything I've said against magic. I'm sorry about how I treated you. I'm sorry...._

Merlin looked up, confused. "What for?"

Arthur took a breath. "That you got hurt because of me. You're not a knight; it's not your responsibility to be in the line of fire, or to try and protect me."

Merlin gave him a strange look. "Of course it is. I told you, I will protect you or die at your side."

Arthur had never truly understood the depths of Merlin's loyalty, his unwavering devotion. It took his breath away, the sudden realization that Merlin  _meant_ it, that, moreover, he  _could_ protect Arthur. That Merlin had been protecting him all along, with magic.

_I think there's someone watching over me, keeping me from harm._ He'd said that to his father years ago, not knowing how true it was. All this time, it had been  _Merlin._ It had always been Merlin.

Arthur just smiled, picking up his cloak from the ground and wrapping it gently around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin shivered slightly and Arthur rubbed his arms, the gesture strangely intimate. For all his magic and strange wisdom and self-sacrificing need to protect Arthur, Merlin was still human; still fragile.

Maybe it was Arthur's turn to protect Merlin.

"Come on," he said, turning to the fire to hide the emotions surely glinting in his eyes. "Let's get you warmed up." 


End file.
